Thursday, September 2, 2010

2. Run

Fall carries memories.

Running
through tall corn fields in darkness,
dew wet grass,
bright moon,
crisp night air,

heart pounding,
the rows of stalks a blur,
my blood sings,
I all but fly.

Rendered
pure and open
all the way
to the cold stars -

the only eyes to see
and
know
how much
this
means

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